He could tell that Qalu didn’t want to let the little one out of her sight, but she also didn’t want to alarm Aevi by setting unusual restrictions. There must be more danger than she let on, a burden she was carrying alone. “Be back before first light,” Qalu said finally.

Aevi scampered away, with a sound of acknowledgment.

“You’re frightened,” he observed. “May I comfort you?”

It seemed only right to get permission to touch her, as she had been so careful with him. Lately, however, he wished for free contact privileges, as reaching for her was starting to feel like second nature. She stared at him briefly, as if taken aback by the question.

Then she said, “Please.”

Helix stepped closer, pressing his forelimb to her chest and tapping in sync with her heart. Her breathing steadied as her pulse slowed. Her eyes silently asked permission to reciprocate and he invited her with a quiet look. It was baffling how such a small touch could calm and center him, but the moment she made contact with his chest, much of his fear evaporated. Perhaps it was a mystery linked to Tiralan physiology, generations of solace given and received. But Helix tended to believe it was because he trusted her.

“Are you certain this is the best course?” he asked, then.

“I’m not. But I can’t risk letting them take you. I don’t know who’s hunting you or why, but you preferred to risk perishing in an explosion to being captured.”

When she put it that way, a chill went through him, a visceral echo of a terror so profound that he could remember the feeling. “I must concur with your assessment. My instincts tell me this is a grave matter. I should offer to go alone—”

“No,” she said at once. “I won’t leave you.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Apologies. Please continue.”

“I should offer to go alone, but I don’t want to. It seems that I’ve become selfish in my current incarnation.”

“More like you’ve discovered self-interest. Before, you existed to work and you constructed your psyche around trying to make Zylar happy. Is that not so?”

It was true, but somehow his prior existence sounded small and sad, though he had been aware of no dissatisfaction at the time. In fact, things had been simpler then. He had one job, and he’d done it well. Now, he had no purpose and only made trouble for the one who had saved him.

Qalu continued, oblivious to his conflicted thoughts. “But it’s not wrong to crave company, Helix. I would be hurt if you abandoned me. My mothers would be heartbroken.” She added the last bit with a flutter of amusement, but he couldn’t share her humor.

“What will you tell them? They won’t understand this sudden departure, and those agents will surely ask questions. Your mothers will mention me.”